A Lost Brother
by SilentSpectator101
Summary: Ser Erik Clegane is the eldest brother of Gregor and Sandor and the current patriach of House Clegane. How will he effect the Game of Thrones?
1. Chapter 1

**Edited: 27/10/2017**

Ser Erik Clegane was a big man. Standing at eight and a half feet he was the tallest man in Westeros and certainly the strongest. He hailed from a house of landed knights, it was a young house founded by his grandfather after he had saved Lord Tytos Lannister from his pet lion, sacrificing his leg for his liege lord. His grandfather had been gifted a keep and some land close to Casterly Rock. His grandfather too had been big boned, in fact all the men in his family were huge, his brothers Gregor and Sandor stood smaller than him though, Sandor at seven and a half feet and Gregor at eight. It seemed with every generation the Cleganes grew higher. Erik's mother had once joked that they must descend from giants.

Ser Erik Clegane was not a good man, that he knew, he killed and he enjoyed it, yet his brother Gregor gave new meaning to the term 'psychopath'. He raped, he murdered, he stole, and he had no concept of kinship. When he was a child he had scorched off the left side of his brother Sandor's face in a hot brazier for playing with his toy. The only reason the then boy had lived was because Erik had hurt his screams and had thrown Gregor off and beaten him senseless.

Gregor was big, but Erik was _bigger_ and he intended never to let him forget it. _He_ was the patriarch of his house after their father's death and no one else.

Erik was currently walking towards his liege lord Tywin Lannisters tent in the camp. They had been camped outside of King's Landing for days awaiting the Mad King Aerys II Targaryen to open the gates and allow them to reinforce the city against the invading self-proclaimed _King_ Robert I Baratheon.

He had been summoned by his liege earlier on, he assumed it was to do with his place in the coming battle. The towering Erik Clegane in his thick steel plate armour with the three dogs of his houses sigil emboldened into the metal was a sight men could rally too. Men followed him because of his size and Tywin was fond of using him for such a purpose. Just looking at Erik gave the men on his size a boost in morale and the opposite to the enemy.

After all, who wanted to fight a giant?

Erik knew he was little more than a pawn in Tywin's games yet he didn't care, he allowed him to kill, and kill he would.

Eventually the crimson tent with the blazing golden lions of House Lannister came into view. He quickened his pace as he neared the entrance, two _very_ brave guards attempted to stop him entering but he simply pushed them aside and entered.

"You called for me?"

Tywin looked up from his desk with a grimace. Erik never called him 'my lord' or any other honourific, if it were any other man he'd have them killed, but Erik was too important for that. House Cleganes men were some of the best trained in the Lannister army not to mention Erik himself.

"Yes, we must discuss plans for the coming battle."

Erik nodded and moved forward to the desk, his eyes coming to rest on the plans and letters that were neatly spread across the ornate wood.

Tywin spoke again, "Under my orders Grandmaester Pycelle has managed to convince King Aerys to let us in."

Erik's eyes widened at this, he had been worried his men would be trapped outside the capital city when the rebels arrived.

"Good, shall I give my men the order to approach the gates." He questioned, eager to enter the city.

"Yes, the whole army shall enter today, but not to aid the king-"

At this, Erik's body froze. Tywin intended to betray the Targaryens?

"-Rhaegar was killed at the Trident. The Targaryens will lose this war and I intend to be on the winning side. Only a fool would fight the losing battle."

Erik stayed silent.

Tywin showed his signatory cruel smirk, "Good. You will play an important part in the sacking. It is your duty to remove Aerys and his grandchildren. We will present the bodies to King Robert as a show of loyalty. You are excused."

* * *

Erik Clegane and his men were the first to enter the shit-pit that was the capital.

Erik had never entered the city before, having seen only twenty namedays he was still young and had yet to travel a great deal. Most of his life had been spent at his families keep in the Westerlands. He had however heard from elder knights that King's Landing stunk of piss and shit, so far he would have to agree with them.

The gates of the city were all open and the army of twelve-thousand Lannister soldiers poured through. Tywin had delegated command of taking the gates to other trusted commanders in his army, one of which was his brother Gregor. Erik's task was arguably the most important, being taking control of the Red Keep. Tywin had sent him to attempt to speak to the king under the guise of delivering a message from his liege. He and his men were to enter, once all were inside, turn on the gold cloaks and slaughter them all.

Erik had to admit it was a good plan, and one that could certainly work. The Mad King believed he was being aided and would therefore not be on guard for attack. His trust in the Lannisters would be his undoing.

Deceitfulness was not in Erik's nature, despite his violent tendencies he was an honourable man. He much preferred to face his foes head on, and more importantly, when both parties _knew_ there was a fight.

As Erik pondered on this he continued walking with his men, numbering at three-hundred, all well trained big and brutish. Due to this observation many around Westeros had taken to calling his men collectively 'The Giants'. Erik was impartial to the name, he didn't care what people called him. If they offended him they usually ended up dead.

After a while longer walking he reached the great gate of the Red Keep. Erik approached and signaled his men to stop behind him.

A voice rang out "Ser Erik Clegane to represent Lord Tywin Lannister?"

Erik smiled, it seemed Lord Tywin had made the Keep aware of his coming.

"Yes." He replied.

The great gate slowly began to open and Erik walked forward, the Gold Cloaks formed a line either side of him as he entered the Keep. At the end of the line was the entrance to the Great Hall.

Erik strode forth with fifty of his men following. The rest had been ordered to wait outside the gate.

He reached the doors to he Great Hall and two guards pushed them open and a boy announced to the court inside who was approaching.

"Ser Erik Clegane approaches." The boy said.

Erik walked forward on the red carpet, at the end of which sat a large dais, on top of said dais was perhaps the most uncomfortable looking chair he had ever seen. It appeared as if the swords would stab you in the arse and back if you were to sit on it. Sitting in the glorified chair was a rather shriveled and unkempt King Aerys. His finger nails had grown out to an inordinate length, his hair appeared long and uncombed and his eyes and cheeks were sunken. Behind him stood a golden haired emboy/em of what could not be more than fifteen summers. He knew this to be Jaime Lannister.

Ser Jaime was the only Kingsguard currently in the capital after the injury and subsequent capture of Ser Barristan at the Trident.

Erik reached the bottom of the dais and sunk into a kneel, his head facing downwards in false respect for a murderous mad king.

The mad king opened his lips to speak but before he got the chance, Ser Jaime Lannister of the Kingsguard drew his sword and made to stab the King. At once every one of the the Giants drew their swords and began to fight against the goldcloaks in the room. Erik could hear the clanging of metal outside of the Great Hall as well as his remaining two hundred and fifty men fought with the crownlander soldiers in the keep. In the great hall of the Red Keep a hundred tightly packed soldiers fought a vicious battle.

Erik himself was dueling three goldcloaks, he smiled as blood splattered across the floor when he took off the mans head with his five foot long greatsword./p

It wasnt long before Erik and his men had defeated the goldcloaks and Erik turned his gaze to the newly titled Kingkiller, Erik new that Jaime's father would be very pleased with him, probably spouting some patriotic shit about family and lions, but Jaime had lost his honour and would likely never be the same. The thought almost made the Giant sad.

"Raff, have him bound. The rest of you lot are with me. There is more blood to spill!"

His declaration was followed by a roar of approval from his men as he jogged through the entrance to the Great Hall once again seeing the courtyard and the pile of bodies his men had created.

In the distance he could spot smoke rising from the lower streets of the city.

The Sack of King's Landing had begun.

* * *

After dispatching a great many more soldiers Erik set out to complete the task his liege had given him, that task was the death of every last Targaryen. He was jogging through the corridors of the Keep attempting to find the Targaryen children and their mother. He turned a corner and came upon a short balding fat man wearing what appeared to be a woman's dress.

"Hello Ser Erik." said the balding fat man.

"Who're you?" Erik demanded gruffly.

"I go by many names, some call me The Spider, but you can call me Varys." he stated with a smile and a high pitched chuckle.  
"Alright Spider, what do you want?"

"There are many things I want. However, I am currently looking out for the seven kingdoms. As I see it you are currently on your way to dispatch two small children and their mother. You must fail to do so." He asked with a serious expression which somehow didn't seem to quite belong on his face.

Erik let out a growl and spoke deeply "They're Targaryens and I have some rather specific orders from Lord Tywin."

"Yes, I know he sent you, I know a great many things. One of which is that as we speak men in my employ are escorting Queen Rhaella and her son Viserys out of the city and away to Essos. I fully intend to do the same with Aegon, Rhaenys and their mother-"

Erik gazed deeply into the eyes of the man before him. He had a choice, he could either kill the man and proceed to exterminate a Targaryen infant and his toddler sister. emOr/em he could save the Targaryens and escort them to Essos, making off with a shit load of gold and a few Lyseni whores before returning to the seven kingdoms and aiding the Targaryens in the destruction of the _absolute cunt_ whose name is Tywin Lannister.

"You would be rewarded greatly if you decided to aid me in this endeavour. I know men like you Ser Erik, you aren't fighting for a cause you believe in, you are fighting for amusement. Imagine how much amusement a new war would cause in perhaps fifteen to twenty years? The Targaryens could gather a huge company from Essos and sail back across the Narrow Sea. There would be gold, wine and a lordship for you if the Targaryens won."

Erik considered it for a moment more before declaring, "Raff, go back to the men. Tell them to get their shit together and find passage to Pentos, they will find us there."

Raff widened his eyes and opened his mouth to speak.

"Yes Raff! I'm sure! Now get the fuck out of here now!"

He turned back to Varys, "Lets get the children the fuck out of here and into a boat. You know a way through the tunnels extending under the Keep?"

Varys smiled, turned around and began walking towards another door.

"Yes Erik, let's go save a dynasty."

* * *

 **Well there we go. I have had this idea cooking around in my head for a long time and I find the only way to extinguish my daydreams is by writing them down. Reviewing is much appreciated and I shall see you all next chapter. :)**

 **P.S. Thanks for the canon corrections in reviews. Very useful. I would also like to make the point that this is an AU fanfic. Things will of course be different to canon, however I did make a mistake first time around in this chapter. It has been some time since I have read the books.**

 **Hope this was more to everyone's liking. :)**

 **SS101**


	2. Chapter 2

_**288AC**_

Ser Erik Clegane was fucking tired.

He, his men and Varys had successfully found Elia and her children hiding in her quarters. Without explanation they had taken the three, pulled them through dark cobweb ridden tunnels and put them into a boat that Varys had had waiting at the small dock. After which they had voyaged all the way across the Narrow Sea.

They had finally reached Pentos, and, as it happened, Varys knew a man there who was willing to support the Targaryens. The plans was to bring them there were the children would be raised to adulthood.

In that time Varys would find Targaryen supporters in Westeros and Essos who he would ensure were ready for when Aegon and his family wished to retake the throne. Meanwhile Ser Erik and his men would be gathering Essosi military support. Erik had heard much of the sellsword companies of Essos and figured he would be able to gain their support to sail to Westeros. All he would need was gold. Lots and lots of gold. Luckily Varys had enough for him to make serious progress. However he would likely need to infiltrate said sellsword companies with his own men. To...ensure...their loyalty.

Rhaella, Viserys and her newborn Daenerys had all finished their voyage to Pentos and as it was there were currently five Targaryens under Magistrate Illyrio Mopatis' roof.

Some days Erik questioned his sanity. He had endangered his mens lives and his own to abandon everything he had ever known for the sake of a few children and a fat man of questionable sexuality.

He supposed that was why he had done it. Erik had done much in his life, killing mostly, yet adventure had not been part of it. He was bigger and stronger than any lesser man and as such was capable of far more difficult tasks. For instance raising five Targaryen children in Essos with nothing but a pile of gold and three hundred men. Be it those three hundred men were as loyal as any and the best of the best in terms of fighting quality, but still. Against the army of the now officially annointed King Robert I Baratheon that was very little. Erik was at the very beginning of a long and painful journey. All because he wanted an adventure?

As it was, Erik was on the back of a horse. Why you might ask? Well he was heading for the camp of the famous Golden Company. His task was to gather an army and gather an army he would. The Golden Company was the largest of the sellsword groups in Essos and also the most likely to back the Targaryens as they had were founded by the descendant of one Aegor 'Bittersteel' Rivers. Be it their past experience included fighting for the Blackfyre's against the Targaryens but there were no Blackfyre's left and plenty yet of Targaryen's.

The Golden Company were reputed to have never broken a contract and were well trained and equipped soldiers, they also had elephants. Now Erik had never seen an elephant before, but he'd heard they were big heavy motherfuckers with tusks and that was good enough for him.

Erik was on the way to meet with the leader of the Company, one Harry Strickland to make their deal.

The Giant sighed.

He was very tired.

* * *

Gregor Clegane was happy.

His brother Erik had abandoned the kingdoms and ran off with a bunch of white-haired bastards. Leaving him as the head of House Clegane. The only bad thing was he had taken all three hundred of their houses retainers and men-at-arms.

Gregor was currently being knighted for his services to his liege Lord Tywin Lannisters. Unlike his brother he knew how to remain loyal and show the proper respect, he might not like it, but the rewards of such were worth it.

Shortly after the Sack of King's Landing and the death of the Mad King, King Robert had arrived with his army of forty thousand expecting a siege and receiving nothing of the sort. Lord Tywin had opened the gates and let King Robert in to sit on his painful looking new throne.

The drunken fool had spent most of the past week sitting in it rewarding his friends, making questionable decision and gloating about smashing the white haired bastard Rhaegar's pretty little head in. Whilst it was an impressive kill at the trident, the King was still late to the main event and didn't have much to brag about.

Gregor had taken a city gate with a thousand men and ensured it remained open to allow the rest of the Lannister soldiers through during the sacking and yet after all of that he had once again been outdone by his brother who had taken the Red Keep, slain most of the Gold Cloaks, bound and knocked out Ser Barristan the Bold and stolen the royal family.

Gregor had taken a gate...

He would have his revenge on Erik. It would be slow and painful, and he would beg for his end.

* * *

After spending a few hours talking to Harry Strickland, Erik had worked out that the man was useless. Convincing him to join the Targaryen cause hadn't been much more than telling him there was a fight. Wide-eyed he had given them a well trained army of ten thousand men. Including two thousand cavalry.

Harry had agreed that when the Golden Company invaded Westeros with Aegon he would be paid upon completion. Negotiations also included being given a royal pardon for those amonst the company who were exiled. That particular clause had driven the price in gold down much leaving more for extra sellsword hire.

Next on Erik's hiring list were the Second Sons. They were not as large as the Golden Company, standing at two thousand men they would be useful still though and were well worth hiring.

After that there were The Bright Banners, The Gallant Men, The Iron Shields, The Long Lances, The Maiden's Men, The Ragged Standard, The Stormbreakers, The Stormcrows and finally The Windblown who would all have to be dealt with. Those companies in total would have around fifteen thousand men, half that cavalry. In total Erik planned to have gathered twenty seven thousand men for King Aegon VI by the time he was of an age to lead them to take the seven kingdoms.

The Iron Bank would also have to be contacted. Whilst Varys was providing a large amount of gold for buying the sellswords it was not nearly enough for all of them and they would surely need more.

If Erik was sure of one thing, it was that his journey had barely begun.

* * *

 _He gasped as he opened his eyes. Turning his head side to side he recognised he was in what appeared to be a hallway, and a nice one at that. He was currently laying on a soft red velvet carpet._

 _He stood up quickly, whoever had done this was going to fu-_

 _"Erik!"_

 _He turned and reached behind him as if to draw his sword, grasping nothing but air._

 _Not that it would have been any use. There was nothing but a window, curtains blowing wildly. It was then he realised exactly where he was._

 _Clegane's Keep._

 _The shithole where he grew up. Great. When he found the cosmic retard who put him in this dreamstate he was going to violently tear off their genitals and shove them up their arse._

 _"Erik!"_

 _The voice shouted again. This time he was certain it was a girl's voice._

 _At that he froze. There was only one girl in this gods damned Keep._

 _His sister._

 _His mother had died when he was young along with their father under what was determined as 'suspicious circumstances'. Leaving him and his siblings alone._

 _Erik had his suspicions on who had created those 'circumstances' but could never prove it._

 _After Sandor's face was melted off by his bastard of a younger sibling he was certain. Yet despite everything Gregor was and had done he was still his brother._

 _That was of course until she died._

 _"Erik!" This time the voice screamed._

 _He took off in a run in the direction the voice seemed to be coming from. Running past tattered banners hanging from the walls until he reached a room he had been in before._

 _Dreading what he would find he continued on, sprinting as fast as he could. This was his dream! His mind! It would not happen again!_

 _Turning the final corner he bellowed with rage at what he saw._

 _His brother slitting his precious sister's throat._

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed this chapter and special thanks to Tunak23 who is my new Beta reader. :)**

 **SS101**


	3. Chapter 3

_**289 AC**_

Life in Essos was better than Erik had expected.

It had been a little under a year since he had fled Westeros with the Targaryens and after securing promises, as far as they were worth, from the various Essosi sellsword companies, Erik himself had been bored.

You see, he was a man of _war_. So he held no lust for _peace_.

That had been the deciding factor in him becoming a sellsword. Sure, he _could_ have stayed with the Targaryens babes until they Aegon was of an age to lead armies from the front. But that would be a decade and a half away. A decade and a half of boredom for him to grow fat and twiddle his thumbs in the manse of an already fat cheese merchant.

 _Thanks, but no thanks._

He was a man of action, and so it was action he created.

* * *

Funnily enough, work as a sellsword was easy to come by when you were an eight and a half foot giant built like a brick shithouse with a sword the length and width of your average man.

It also made hiding from Westerosi spies difficult. They usually weren't hard to find, any westerosi stood out like a sore thumb amongst the essosi natives. Defining features usually include paler skin, an arrogant attitude and the fact they spoke the fucking common tongue.

They also weren't hard to deal with, a steel covered fist to the jaw usually prevented secrets being revealed.

That or a _man sized sword_ in the voice box.

Erik had just finished a protection job for a merchant caravan traveling from Pentos to Myr. Gold in his pocket and bored stiff from the journey he made his way to an inn. It was nothing special in any way. Weathered stone walls and a sheet instead of a door as was custom for many buildings in Essos due to the extreme heat covering most of the southern part of the continent.

Ducking his head as he entered he was instantly assaulted with scents of various spices.

Gazing around and seeing the amount of tits in the place he came to a quick conclusion.

It was a _Brothel_ not an _inn._

He grinned. Did it really matter?

Fast-forward a couple of hours and Erik was both satisfied, significantly poorer and absolutely _sloshed_. Ale and mead flowed freely in these places it seemed.

Stumbling out of the door the fresh air not tainted with the smell of sex made him light-headed.

He fell over in an undignified heap and after trying and failing to raise himself several times, he decided to sleep and hope he didn't get stabbed to death in the few hours until the sun rose.

With that final thought, darkness engulfed him.

* * *

 ** _281 AC_**

 _The hard rock of the floor made his knee ache._

 _His blood lust that had so recently been in control was coalesced firmly behind his eyes. The red he had been seeing with for so many hours that day slowly receding. Perhaps a tourney was not the place one should lose control of themselves, but his Clegane blood didn't allow any less than total focus on making others blood **flow**._

 _He had won the event. The melee of course, jousting had never held any kind of appeal to the Giant. Where did such clashes of horse take place in real battle?_

 _No. He only fought with his sword, heavy, castle-forged steel. It never failed him._

 _Out of the forty men who had entered, only he was left standing._

 _It had started off slow, no one really trying him, but Erik was content to wait. After the weakness had been routed out the real battle began. He remembered groups of knights and men-at-arms attempting to work together to take him down._

 _None had succeeded. Who were they to attempt to defeat him?_

 _All had fallen in quick succession. A sword too great to be described as a great sword making quick work of any sword, shield or **body** put in front of it. After they were defeated, some dead and some wounded, the remaining knights, Ser Barristan for one, Ser Lewyn Martell for another, had both came at him, each giving him various wounds which bled profusely but both eventually being left as a pair of blood smears and unconscious piles of kingsguard._

 _The crowd had roared at such a display._

 _It was rare for any Kingsguard members to take part in a tourney, even rarer for two to be allowed by the king, yet this was a tourney the king had ordered to take place for the fifth birthday of his second son Viserys. This tourney not one, but two had entered and both had been mauled by a sixteen year old boy hailing from a knightly house. Already towering easily over seven feet._

 _After beating them he had won the melee and had as was customary, the winner of a tourney was knighted if he wasn't already a knight._

 _And so Erik Clegane became **Ser** Erik Clegane, Bane of the Kingsguard. _

* * *

The first thing he knew when he awoke was the stabbing pain in his head associated with extensive drinking.

The second was that he was being shaken, he snapped his eyes open, groaning in pain as the light was let in, to observe a rather queer looking man.

Old for sure, with long grey-silver hair and a wrinkled face, he was wearing a multicoloured coat that appeared to be made of rags torn from surcoats. Erik immediately knew who this man was and lurched to his feet his hand reaching for his sword.

This was the Tattered Prince.

The man had been chosen to become the Prince of Pentos some thirty-five years ago in 262 AC, hours after the previous Prince had been beheaded.

The Tattered Prince had left Pentos after declining in order to avoid the fate of his predecessor and fled to the Disputed Landed before taking up the life of a sellsword and establishing his own company, _The Windblown._

Whilst dangerous in his own right, Erik was more worried about where his company was.

Were they hired to kill him by the Iron Throne? Take him out to prevent the Targaryens from reseating themselves in Westeros?

As Erik drew his sword, the Prince mad no move to reciprocate instead looking almost bored at the display.

After a moment he spoke in near perfect common tongue.

 _"You finished panicking?"_

Erik let out a growl at the insult and narrowed his eyes.

"Why are you here old man?"

At this the Prince smirked.

 _"Why, I am here to recruit you of course. The Windblown always has space for strong men looking for blood."_

Seeing the Prince had no intention to draw his weapon, Erik sheathed his sword but his eyes remained narrowed.

"You are hear to recruit me in person? I find it hard to believe you would make the effort yourself. Surely you have more important things to do than talk to me."

The Prince smiled thinly.

 _"We will speak of this at the camp. Come."_

And they did.

* * *

King Robert Baratheon, First of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. Sat on his throne. He had what he wanted, the ugly twisted ball of swords was his and Aerys and Rhaegar were dead.

Yet he felt none of the elation he had expected. The one thing he wanted more than any other was gone. The girl he had gone to war for, killed and bled for was _dead,_ and with her his happiness.

Ned Stark, his best friend had gone back to the north with Lya- _her_ body, and he didn't expect to see him for years. The north was secluded from most of the realm after all.

Misery overtook him at the thought. Stuck in the lions den. Married to a stuck up bitch and without anyone he could trust. The Targaryen threat wasn't even _over._ Five had managed to escape to Pentos with that blasted Clegane.

Robert swore they would pay.

* * *

 **Good or naw? Lemme know in reviews guys. More reviews I get the faster I update.**

 **Hope you enjoyed it and cya next time.**

 **SS101**


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